


At His Sovereign’s Feet

by CaptainStormChaser



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Cute space boy needs his wizard to take care of him, D/s, Discipline, Dom!Stephen Strange, Hair Pulling, M/M, Magical Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rare Pair, Riding, White flag starts playing in the distance, butt plug, don't mind me, just paddling along in my canoe of a ship, sub!Peter Quill, with meowrails at the head of our little fleet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 07:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14972525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainStormChaser/pseuds/CaptainStormChaser
Summary: Sometimes Peter needed the grounding touch of a firm hand. He needed to make Stephen feel good, to watch him come apart. Worship and adulation for his king, his body for a throne. A feast for Stephen’s hungry eyes, never a word of praise or reprimand undeserved.





	At His Sovereign’s Feet

Stephen felt powerful like this. There was an innate potency that went with being a Sorcerer Supreme, but even then he was merely sticking his fingers into the current of physicality, bending it. Here, he controlled entirely.

Peter would wait hours if Stephen wished it. Not touching himself, head bent, waiting.

But Stephen wasn’t nearly so cruel. He rewarded good behavior generously. His fingers ghosted under Peter’s jaw, lifting by only a small margin.

“Eyes on me, beautiful.” He said quietly, but clearly. Peter’s chin turned up, exposing himself to Stephen’s gaze.

Peter was completely bare, sitting back on his heels on the bed. His hands rested atop his thighs, grasping the flesh there in demonstration of the strain on his control. His cock was flushed red, curving rigidly toward his stomach. Tears wet his eyes, shiny in the low light.

Stephen dipped his head, touching their lips together. Peter moaned softly, pushing into the kiss with something akin to desperation. It lasted only a few moments before Stephen pulled away, nipping Peter on the lower lip for his whine.

“Lie back.” Stephen told him, turning from the bed.

He didn’t watch to see that his order was heeded, but heard the movement. The sorcerer was still dressed completely, sans Cloak. His back to Peter, he undid the belts and sashes, letting his robes fall to the floor.

Stephen heard the catch in Peter’s breath when his backside was bared, the end of the plug revealed.

The older man turned back to the bed, creeping up Peter’s body until his knelt over his hips.

“I wanted to be ready when you got here.” He answered the unspoken question, hands gliding over Peter’s chest. It was already coated in a fine sheen of sweat, firm muscle flexing as it was touched.

Peter’s eyes were riveted as Stephen reached behind himself, pulling the plug out with a low groan.

Stephen took Peter’s cock in hand, lining them up, and hesitated.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Stephen asked, getting a jerky nod in response. “Say it.”

“I want to fuck you,” Peter panted, voice rough.

Stephen tsked. “What do we say?”

“Please?”

“‘Please’ what?”

Peter squirmed, but Stephen took him by the jaw to still him.

“Please, can I fuck you? Please, I’ll be so good for you, I won’t-”

Stephen shushed Peter. “Quiet.”

A terrible feat, as the next moment, Stephen began sinking down onto Peter’s cock. There was the glorious stretch of it, the lube-coated plug too thin to contend with Peter. Stephen let out a single long breath while he adjusted, eyes fluttering closed.

It was easy, in the distance owed to their respective duties protecting the universe, to forget the heat and electricity that passed between them. Magnetically, they were drawn together at the slightest closeness, inseparable in a tangle of limbs.

Moreover, it was easy for Stephen to forget how _big_ Peter was. Not even in the sense of the rigid hardness he was rocking back onto, making his lover whine and claw at the bedsheets. Peter was tall and broad, spanning over Stephen’s bed, his arms welcoming and his chest comfortable for Stephen to rest his head on. All the same, Stephen appreciated the first sense. It was enjoyable to be put on his elbows and knees and be pounded into the mattress, or to lay lazily on his side in the early morning, Peter’s kisses littering his neck and their hips moving slowly in tandem.

But sometimes Peter needed the grounding touch of a firm hand. He needed to make Stephen feel good, to watch him come apart. Worship and adulation for his king, his body for a throne. A feast for Stephen’s hungry eyes, never a word of praise or reprimand undeserved.

“What is it?” Stephen asked softly, peeking from beneath his eyelashes, ever intuitive to when Peter was holding back.

“Can I touch you?” Peter asked all at once. “Please?”

Stephen seemed to consider the question, a thoughtful hum emanating from his throat. When he made up his mind, his hands found Peter’s, guiding them up his legs. Stephen drew back, leaving Peter’s hands on his hips, just short of cupping his ass. “Can you keep them there?”

Peter nodded, his throat bobbing. “Yeah. Yes.”

“Good boy.”

There was a deep shift in Peter’s breath when Stephen first rolled his hips upward and sank back down, a low groan when he began to ride him in earnest.

True to his word, Peter’s hands didn’t stray. He anchored Stephen to him, dragging the sorcerer back down after each movement up, hot and familiar around his cock. Stephen let pass this little crack in discipline, content that Peter would leave bruises in the shapes of fingers on his ass and leave him sore in all the right ways, able to recall every moment in perfect detail.

Peter rolled his hips up in a hard thrust, making Stephen shudder and cry out as his prostate was nailed.

“Did I say you could do that?” Stephen asked, voice uneven. He turned his lidded gaze onto Peter’s, planting a hand on the Guardian’s chest.

Peter averted his gaze, though Stephen could still see the hints of a proud smirk.

“Eyes on me.” Stephen said in a clipped tone, hand darting out to take Peter by the hair. “Did I say you could do that?”

Peter shook his head. “No.”

Stephen was deathly still for all the length of a breath, his hand falling away. “Hands on the bed frame.” His tone was pitched low, a dangerous calm.

Peter knew better than to argue at this point. His fingers lost their iron grip on Stephen’s hips, bringing them up to grab the frame over his head.

Amber tendrils of energy twined over Peter’s wrists, grasping him securely.

Stephen shifted a bit, reveling once again in the girth of Peter’s cock stretching him open.

Stephen started slow. It’s what Peter deserved, after all. Even with his pleased noises when Stephen began, Peter saw it all turn to ash in his mouth.

Minutes seemed to stretch long, the friction pleasing but no where near enough. Each roll of Stephen’s hips was a cruel mockery of the release Peter yearned and begged for. He knew better than to try to speed it along, lest Stephen deny him longer yet.

“Can you behave?” Stephen asked once Peter was near trembling, arms straining at an unbreakable hold.

“Yes,” Peter confirmed breathily, watching with anxious eyes as Stephen’s fingers came to rest on his wrists, the force holding them melting away.

Stephen guided them back onto his own hips, his own hands landing on either side of Peter’s head.

Peter found himself in a bruising kiss, his lover looming over him. Stephen was all but slamming himself down on Peter’s cock, the change in angle more conductive to Stephen’s pleasure.

Stephen came with a soft yell against Peter’s lips, his seed painting both their stomachs. Peter kept the established rhythm going, though now in soft rolls rather than the thrusts that had rocked the bed frame.

“You going to cum inside me?” Stephen asked in a breathy whisper, voice wrecked. “Going to fill me up? You can, you know. I want you to.”

Peter groaned low, hips stuttering and hands pulling Stephen tight.

Minutes later, when both of them cleaned and sated, they lay with Peter’s chest flush to Stephen’s back. The Guardian’s arms wound around his lover’s waist as slow, thoughtful kisses were pressed the whole length of the sorcerer’s throat and over his shoulders.

“I take it I did a good job?” Stephen mumbled out, not far from drifting off to sleep.

“Not just good,” Peter answered. “It was great, Stevie. Thank you.”

Stephen hummed, eyes closing.

“Was, uh, was it good for you?” _Was I good for you?_

“You were perfect, sweetheart.” Stephen said softly, as though shocked into reverence.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you want. I like ‘em.


End file.
